


Brother of Mine

by Idahl



Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Brotherly Love, Drama queens, Feanorian trouble, Maedhros no, Maglor no, Please be nice, Russingon, brother issues, oath aftershocks, overgrown babies, reborn Maedhros, wandering Maglor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-30
Updated: 2016-05-07
Packaged: 2018-06-05 12:12:22
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 20,646
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6704068
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Idahl/pseuds/Idahl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Maglor is found by Maedhros in the woods of Middle Earth. He has been reborn and wants Maglor to return with him to Valinor, but Maglor wants a talk with his brother before that can happen.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Sweet kisses. Soft embraces. Joyful laughter. Lovely tunes. Kind touches. Savoury tastes. Vivid smells. Life.  
His past came to life in his dreams. He had always had a talent for recognising when he was dreaming. He enjoyed them immensely.  
In this dream, he was home. The blankets around him were warm and smelled of comfort and peace. The bed was soft and kind against his back. The light of the trees shone gently through the cracks of the shutters and drew long lines of silver and gold across the floor and bed. His body was so comfortable and heavy as if he had just woken from a long sleep. Yet he knew this was a dream.  
There was someone else in the bed with him. Maglor smiled to himself. This was one of the good dreams. The person next to him rolled over and moved herself in closer to tightly embrace him. Drunk from sleep she breathed a sigh of utter content. He intertwined their hands and they laid in silence. Her chest moved softly against his back with the rhythm of her divine breath. He placed a careful kiss on her hand, and held it to his lips for a long moment. He so desperately wanted to turn around and completely press her to his chest. Breath her in. Love her to the full extend of his being. But he controlled himself. If he turned around, the same thing would happen again. The dream would end and he would wake up. The last time he saw her face was in Valinor. Not even in his dreams has he been allowed to see her again. Another punishment of the Valar perhaps? At least he had this. The memory of their small kind moments together. Just being with one another. Pure bliss. How he had _loved_ her.

“ _Darling_?”

She moved behind him. Her sweet voice caressed his soul and made him shiver. He knew that the dream was ending. He would turn around as he always did when she called for him. And she would disappear and he would wake up again and be by himself. He smiled yet again. That word - “ _darling_ “ - was the only other luxury he had left of his memories of her. The only word that clung to his dreams and allowed him to hear her voice. No other words would she speak. She called out to him. A question to be answered. A command to be obeyed. A name of love. For ages she had called out to him in his dreams, and for ages he had responded. He shifted gently in the bed and slowly turned around. Sometimes, when his eyes remained closed, he could extend the dream a little. He could hold her a little while longer. He could forget a little bit more. So he kept his gaze shut. Undeserving of her light. He turned around and stretched out his arms to invite her in.

The cold wind screamed in his face and the rain stained his skin like needles. He was so cold. He tried to shield himself from the elements and made himself as small as he could. He breathed into his shaking hands, trying to get them warm but his breath was stolen by the greedy wind before it reached his hands properly. He was so very cold. The ground beneath him was hard as stone but his body had grown accustomed to it by now. In an attempt to get a bit more comfortable he turned around. But the storm was so wild the wind changed directions all the time. There was no shelter to be found. He had to endure it for now. He could almost still feel the warmth of the bed and her tender embrace. But she was gone. She had been gone for a long time.

 

* * *

 

The morning came with an apologetic presence. The sunrise wiped away the stiffness in his body and gave promises of warmth and comfort - “ _The storm is over! A new day awaits!_ ” - But to Maglor it was just that. Another day. One more among many. He stretched his body and felt his sore limbs complain loudly. He looked to the sunrise and drank its sweet rays.  
Another cruel day to be alive. Another day not to be dead. Another merciful day not to be reborn. He scratched his chin in a yawn and to his astonishment he noticed something new. Quickly he reached for his bag to find the shard of mirror and curiously he examined his chin. A sound of fascination escaped his lips. A hair! No, quite a few hairs grew proudly on his chin. He lowered the mirror shard.

“A beard?” — he mumbled in contemplation. He had lost track of time in his solitude. The seasons changed but never him. How many centuries must have passed by now?

“A _beard_!” - he chuckled merrily. Somehow he found it humorous. Would he let it grow? The idea of him with a face full of hair was too hilarious! He thought of the dwarves and their facial fashion. A mighty dwarven beard! If he was to have one, no less would do! He smiled even more and then it dawned on him; he was _enjoying_ himself. But this was different. Where was the guilt? The anger and resentment? No… this little moment of silliness was not corrupted by his self loath. So strange and unfamiliar it was to him, that for a moment, he did not really know how to handle such uninterrupted merriment. But his bewilderment came to be the undoing of it. After a little moment he decided to get on with the day. Still puzzled by the strange sensation, he got up and started walking. His wandering continued.

It wasn’t long before he found a farm. It had its advantages being a skilled elf warrior at times, when his hunger became unbearable. Without a sound he could sneak in and out of the homes of the edain and steal just enough food to satisfy his needs. He never took more than what he needed, but how he hated it. He often wondered at what he loathed the most; to beg or to steal?  
A nice newly made loaf of bread caught his eye. His stomach growled ferociously once he caught the smell as well. He took it. He also found some dried meat. How much would he need? He took about half of it, then the guilt kicked him in the gut, and he put some of it back. A loaf a bread and a bit of dried meat. That should be enough.  
Just as he was about to leave again, something compelled him to look once more in the cabinet. He found sweets. _Chocolate_. His greed took over and he grabbed it without a second thought. This was a luxury, not a necessity. Besides, the farm most be well off if they could afford such a rarity. Yes, he would cause no harm in taking it.  
Now he really had to leave, before anyone found him. But as he turned around it was too late. Two big brown eyes stared up at him. Blanket to mouth and ribbons in hair. A toy bear tightly cradled under the arm. Maglor froze to the spot.

“… Hello” — he managed to say at last.

The child said nothing. The brown eyes shifted between Maglor’s face and the sweets in his clenched fist. Then the child started to clumsily walk forward and reach out for the sweets. Its intention was evident. The child held no fear for Maglor, luckily, but a great love for chocolate. He kneeled down and handed the child a piece. The joy in the child’s eyes flickered brightly once the sweet taste hit the tongue, followed by an innocent sound of pure delight. Maglor smiled kindly and gently patted the top of the child’s head.  
Now he really had to leave, but the child grabbed him by his cloak and begged for more.

“No, little one!” — He whispered firmly but not cruelly — “No, you’ve had your share. No more!”

Tears started to show in the brown eyes, and with great dread Maglor saw the familiar grimace of a child’s face contorted into misery right before a big cry. And how the child could cry. The scream was loud and unmistakeable. Maglor could here the parents calling for their child. They would find him! He hurried away, but to his horror he heard the child fall silent quickly followed by the blunt sound of a thud. He looked over his shoulder in his escape and saw the child face down on the floor. It had not let go of his cloak and had fallen once Maglor had moved. The child lifted its head and blood ran from its nose over its mouth. The scream he heard then was heart wrenching. But Maglor continued to run away even though every ounce of his body desperately wanted to run back and hold the child in his arms and beg for forgiveness. To wipe away the blood and make the pain go away. But his legs carried him far away from the farm followed by the haunting screams, still shamefully clenching the melting chocolate in his hand.

Soon it would be night again. The sun slowly descended towards the horizon and painted the sky purple and red. Maglor’s heart fluttered in his chest when he saw the colourful display dancing across the sky and clouds.  
He tore a piece off of the bread and ate it. It was good. Finally he wasn’t hungry anymore. For a moment, while he ate and watched the sunset, he was content, and the strange absence of loathing remained. It would return soon enough he thought to himself. He somehow felt uncomfortable in its absence.  
He felt guilt over the child. The screams still lingered in the back of his mind, and he hadn’t touched the chocolate yet. But the loathing he was missing was of a different origin. It had been his constant companion for many, many centuries now. If he had dared to feel happy about something, or even just mildly satisfied, a wave of guilt and anger and complete disgust had rolled over him and left him clawing for breath. How dared he feel such emotions? He didn’t deserve them. He deserved to be miserable and he deserved to be suffering! After all of the suffering and pain he had inflicted on others, how could he be worthy of anything else?  
The sun disappeared beneath the horizon and the light began to fade. His stomach was full, and he still had the chocolate left to enjoy. He reached out for it, but the image of the child crying with a bloody nose flashed before his eyes, and he flinched. After further thought, he wasn’t really hungry for chocolate. Maybe tomorrow? Yes, tomorrow. He leaned back into the grass and watched the stars slowly appear above him.  
Yes. Yes, he was rather content, and he had somehow allowed himself to be so. What a strange day it had been.

 

* * *

 

The next day he found himself enjoying himself yet again. This time, it was the simple joy of being drenched in the rain. The summer rain was mild and the weather was comfortable. He lifted his head and felt the drops of rain on his skin. A smile spread across his face and a breath of bliss escaped his lips. Still, no guilt. No anger. No hate. Just contentment.  
His smile grew wider and soon he could not hold himself back any longer. He jumped to his feet and started slowly to dance in circles, arms outstretched catching the rain, head lifted and mouth open in a laugh. With every step and swirl he increased the pace of his dance and soon he couldn’t keep up with his own excitement. He stopped and threw his hands to the sky in an outburst of relief. _It was gone! It was gone!_  
He brushed back his wet hair from his face and allowed himself to fall backwards onto the ground. The rain kept on falling and he loved every minute of it as he laid there laughing still. _It was gone. The hate was gone. It was gone._  
He raised his right hand and looked at it thoroughly. The scars ran across his palm like mountains. His left hand traced their rise and fall. He looked at it some more. He had to make sure. He had to be certain. The rain ran across his burned hand and he felt… sadness. Yes, he was sad, but there was still no wave of those emotions that left him breathless. _The hate was gone_. He lowered his hands and looked to the sky. His tears disguised themselves as raindrops on his face.  
_At long last, the hate was gone._

 

* * *

 

A few days later he was sitting on a fallen tree trunk with his feet in a river. The summer was still so young, and the water was cool. The birds sang and the sun rays caressed his skin. He was humming a tune from his youth. The mild summer breeze carried his tune away in its arms like an infant; safe and guarded from harm.  
And in that moment, he did not know it, as he sat with his feet in the river, his heart sent out a prayer. A prayer that had long been awaited far away. It leaped out from him and in its simplicity and honesty it was greeted by the elements. The water invited it into its care and carried it out to sea where it swam to distant shores accompanied by great white birds. The wind danced with it like a long lost lover reunited at last in a tender embrace, and it waltzed with it to foreign skies. The earth, stable and patient in its nature, listened to its message and kept it within its warm hands like the treasures of the mountains.  
The prayer, protected and celebrated by water, wind and earth, flowed through the world, through the trees, over meadows, beneath the waves and clouds, and onto a world unreachable by many.  
There the prayer was heard and welcomed in full. Impatient hearts opened up and hope kindled in its wake. The prayer was heard and it was answered.  
At long last, Makalaure, second son of Feanor, kinslayer, accursed, marked and lost, was ready to return home.

 

* * *

 

The summer went its way and fall took its place. Winter would soon follow. All through that time Maglor had faced hardships and unhappy times, but when he finally experienced happy moments, the hate had remained absent.  
His chin had slowly become more and more hairy. Not a mighty dwarf beard yet, but now it was visible at least. He had not the luxury to groom it properly, so it looked rather awful by elven standards. _He_ looked rather awful by elven standards. But such was the way of his life now, and so it had been for ages.  
A prince he was no more, nor a king regent, nor a lord, nor… anything really. No titles he had left to adorn his name. A brother he was neither, for they had all perished. A son he was still, he thought. His mother lived on. He often thought of her. How about a husband? Could he dare still call himself that? The time he had spent with his wife was so short compared to the time they had been apart. Perhaps she had been released of her vows in his exile, and found another. A part of him hoped she had. He was no-one after all. He had always believed that a person is defined by the people that loved him. And Maglor was alone. Did anyone miss him? They would know he was still alive, since he had not gone to Mandos. Were his brothers reborn? Did they now walk beneath the trees in Valinor with their mother? A part of him, a vile corner of his soul that still harboured resentment, hoped that some of his brothers never left the halls. They should remain there with their father until the end of days. Too much damage had they inflicted on the world. Maglor sighed at the thought. He looked down on his burned hand. How was he any different? People probably said the same about him — “ _Let him wander forever!” — “He brings nothing but disaster!_ ” — how could he claim himself above his brothers? He couldn’t. And perhaps that was the reason no-one had come for him. He can’t say that he wasn’t grateful for that. He had wanted to be alone. To be forgotten and disappear into nothing. But now the fact of the matter was that no-one had searched for him. Not one. Maglor laughed at the absurdity of that thought. Of course no-one came for him! They were all dead or across the sea!  
Well… that was not entirely true. Elrond and Elros _had_ searched for him. But they gave up a long time ago. In his grief and self loathing Maglor had done everything he could in order not to be found. He did not have the strength to meet their eyes and see whatever thoughts might be displayed in them; Disgust, anger, resentment, pity or even worse: love. Elros met his fate ages ago. He never got to see him again. Elrond, Maglor thought, he might still get to see, if the fate would be so kind.  
Maglor stopped what he was doing, cause an old memory came to life behind his eyes. Blond soft hair and kind amber eyes crowned with the sweetest of laughters. Such a tender and strong spirit, worthy of even the ainur. But she had left his side ages ago, when she came to meet her fate. The same fate as her grandfather. Though her blessed life had been long for a mortal, the time they had had together had been far too short.  
He shook his head at his own silly nostalgia and continued to gather some wood. The nights had grown cold of late and tonight he wanted to stay warm. A nice fire would do him good and who knows? He might have a good dream as well!  
He had already gathered a nice bundle. He was humming a tune as he kicked the dry red leaves aside and picked up another good branch from the ground. That was when he heard the crunch of dry leaves beneath boots behind him. His grip on the branch tightened as he listened more intensely to the stranger’s movements. He could use it as a weapon if need be. He heard a gasp of surprise and the stranger stopped walking. It was a man, Maglor noted. He remained kneeling with a firm grip on the branch.

“ _… Makalaure?_ ”

His heart stopped for a moment. He did not move. He could not bring himself to turn around. Every ounce of his body screamed at him to run. To escape. That thought pattern had grown so strong in him across the years, it was impossible not to listen to it. The stranger took one eager yet careful step towards him and out of pure instinct Maglor threw the bundle of wood back at the man and started to flee.  
His heart pounded feverishly in his chest. Whoever that person was, he knew his mother-name, and Maglor had no interest in finding out how. He ran fast, and darted through the woods like a frightened deer, but he didn’t get far. The man had followed him like a wolf set on its prey. Somehow the man managed to knock Maglor to the ground, and he hit his head hard against the dirt. He tried to crawl away but he was held back by strong hands. Panic rose in him and he rolled from his stomach onto his back to kick back at his attacker. It helped a little cause the man tried to defend himself against his boots. Maglor fought back with all of his might, but he had not eaten for days and that came at a price. The man quickly got on top of him and held him down with both hands, trying to stop his desperate attempt of escape. But Maglor kept on fighting and struggling beneath his weight.

“Maglor! Stop! I won’t hurt you!”

It didn’t matter.

“Maglor, please, be calm!”

He had to get away.

“It’s me! Look at me! _Brother, please!_ ”

In great contrast to his wild movements, he now froze completely at that one word. _Brother_. Slowly he lowered his arms from the defensive gesture he had held, and cautiously he lifted his gaze to look at the stranger on top of him.

“It’s me, little brother!”

Red hair framed a face Maglor knew all to well.

“ _… No_ ” — Maglor said in disbelief.

Beside the imprint of a boot above his right brow his face was unharmed. There were no scars. No evidence to his time spent in the torturous dungeons of Angband. The face of his brother, yes, but from a time long lost. A time before the oath. With a shaking voice a name formed from his dry lips.

“ _… Maitimo?_ ”

“ _Yes!_ ” — he said in relief — “Yes, it’s me. It’s Maitimo!”

Maglor hesitantly reached up to carefully map his face. He was so young. He was so very young. He had been reborn then. His brother had returned to life. It shouldn’t have been such an obscure thought to Maglor, but he could hardly believe it. He had no words. What could he possibly say? What do you say to a ghost? For a ghost he was… or at least, had been.  
Maedhros’ eyes started to tear up and he embraced Maglor as only a big brother could. The embrace was almost too strong, and Maglor jerked in his arms for breath. He let go of him slowly.  
They sat on the ground and couldn’t stop looking at each other. Maedhros could not let go of his little brother’s clothes. His grip was so tight on the fabric his knuckles showed white. Maglor found it difficult to grasp the idea that his brother now had _two hands_. Perhaps Maglor would have had easier to cope with it all if his brother had looked like he did the last time he saw him. Before he had…

“I finally found you!” — Maedhros said with his voice so full of joy. It was strange. Maglor did not return his joyous smile, but continued to look at him in a mix of confusion and disbelief.

“… _How_ did you find me? How did you know where to look?”

“Ulmo guided me. He has held an eye on you for some time now, and when your call finally came to us, he showed me the way”

“Ulmo? What call?” — Maglor didn’t understand. Was this a dream? It was all so very strange! But he would know if it was a dream. He would know it! Wouldn’t he?

“… You know, _the call_ … That you wished to return home” — Maedhros explained with a subtle frown — “That is your wish, isn’t it?” — He asked with such carefulness, as if he feared to hear the answer. Maglor studied his brother once more. His gaze traced every corner. Two hands, no scars, princely clothing and perhaps the strangest of it all; happy eyes.

“You’re… so different…” — Maglor then said. Maedhros took his hand in his and squeezed it in comfort.

“I can only imagine how this must be for you. I have food with me! I can see that you might appreciate some”

Maglor nodded slowly. He hadn’t noticed it, but he was starving.

They lit a fire and soon the night came.  
They ate in silence. They both had so many questions, but neither of them knew where to start. But even though they hardly spoke, their eyes kept on returning to the other. They took in every possible detail they could find, as if as soon as they looked away, the other would disappear once again. Maglor had come to terms with that indeed this was not a dream. That his brother sat and ate with him. This was real. And he had no idea how he felt about it.  
Maglor scratched his chin and yawned. He noticed that Maedhros’ gaze was fixed on the promising beard he was growing. A teasing smile spread across his face, as he vainly displayed it to his beardless brother.

“You know, technically, I am the _older_ brother now” — He scratched it proudly.

“It looks like an animal died on your face” — Maedhros sharply replied.

“… well, we can’t _all_ look like princes!” — Maglor responded with wounded pride, to which Maedhros smiled.  
Once more Maglor looked at his brother’s new appearance. His boots were made from the finest leather and his silk shirt glistened with many colours in the light from the fire. The shirt as well as his cloak was embroidered with gold and silver, and he wore jewellery with green gems. Everything he wore was unmistakably from Valinor. The quality of it was beyond even the most skilled craftsmen of middle earth. Next to him, no-one would believe that they were brothers. Maglor had worn the same clothes for decades. The weather had destroyed its colours and now only showed different shades of brown. Perhaps it was because it was covered in dirt. But Maedhros’ new wardrobe did not astound him as much as his… new body. Maglor could not hold back his questions any longer.

“… How old are you?”

“You know when I was born, _little_ brother” — he emphasised ‘little’. So his earlier statement had bothered him, Maglor thought to himself, and to say that he did not revel in it was an understatement.

“I mean… How old are you… _now_?”

Maedhros glanced up at him from his plate. His question seemed to bother him somewhat. Perhaps because it was a reminder that he had died? That he had killed himself? Whatever the reason was he didn’t answer; so Maglor went on to use another tactic that had always proven very efficient in the past: to be as annoying as possible.

“What it’s like to be reborn? Are you a babe when you return or are you awoken in an adult body? Do you still hate pickles in your new body? Cause really, who hate pickles? How many of our brothers are reborn? And father? How is mother? What is Valinor like now? Are you welcome among the vanyar and teleri or are you confined somewhere? Is Elrond with you? If he is, how is he? Also, how are—”

He stopped talking when Maedhros in an exaggerated manner stood up and threw the leftovers into the fire. He glared at Maglor over his shoulder, and Maglor responded with a smug smile. Maedhros rolled his eyes and sighed deeply, or rather grunted. Success, Maglor thought to himself.

“We should get some rest. We’ve got a long journey ahead of us starting tomorrow”

“Where are we going?”

At his question Maedhros’ obvious annoyance disappeared and he looked at his brother perplexed. He hesitated to answer, but the genuine wondering look on Maglor’s face killed any hope he had that he might be joking.

“… To the harbour…”

Maglor flinched very subtly, and he prayed that Maedhros didn’t notice it.

“Yes.. of course.. The harbour” — Maglor then said, but not very convincingly.

If Maedhros had any suspicions towards his brother he did not act on it. Instead he started to get ready for the night. Maglor still wondered at what Maedhros had meant earlier when he said they had received his “ _call_ ”. That he had wanted to return home. How absurd! But as he wondered a little more on it, the usual feelings he had when he thought of home, were absent. Did he actually want to return home? Was he even ready to face them all? He would be lying if he didn’t admit that he longed to see his mother again. To be away from the road and be able to actually eat when he was hungry. But he had remained in exile because he had _chosen_ to. He had not followed his brothers to Mandos because he had _chosen_ not to. He had remained alive in order not to be reborn. But now, as the opportunity presented itself to him, he began to doubt.

To Maglor’s delight, Maedhros had brought another blanket with him. He hadn’t had that luxury for a while, and he caught a glimpse of guilt in his brother’s eyes when he told him that.  
With a warm soft blanket, a full stomach and a nice fire, Maglor found himself fast asleep.

The good dreams Maglor had hoped for did not come. Even though he couldn’t remember the last time he had been this comfortable, his dreams did not reflect that.  
He could smell his own flesh burn. The pain was unbearable. But what was worse was that now he knew the truth. The oath was empty. They held no claim to their father’s work and now the silmarils themselves rejected their foul touch. Their deeds had marked them in their wickedness and crowned them in their shame. And yet, Maglor could not let go of the jewel that hurt him so. He could not let himself accept its rejection, cause that would mean all of his crimes were pointless. All of the chaos had been for nothing, and he could _not_ accept that!  
A scream pierced through his thoughts. A bone shattering howl. He turned around to face his older brother, who was rolling on the ground in pure agony. Angry tears flowed from his wide panicked eyes and saliva ran from his mouth in his never ending screaming. His only hand firmly held the burning jewel. His manic behaviour was not a result of the physical pain, but of his tormented soul finally breaking. Maglor had long watched his older brother and wondered when he would snap, and now, at long last, Maedhros’ spirit had crumbled.  
As Maedhros’ body contorted into unimaginable muscle cramping positions, Maglor completely forgot his own pain, and watched on in complete terror. After a while, Maedhros collapsed onto the ground heavily, and his breath left his body. His chest did not move and he starred upwards into the sky.  
Maglor did not dare to move. Was his brother dead? Had his soul fled his body in order to escape the pain? Maglor could feel the slow cruel realisation of abandonment dawn on him. Then an almost inaudible whimper escaped Maedhros’ lips, and Maglor was relieved. Maedhros slowly got himself up in a seated position and lifted his left hand with the silmaril, still boiling away at his flesh. Tears fell without a sound. His gaze shifted to Maglor. His scarred face had for so long remained unmoved, as if it had been carved in stone; nothing had seemed able to erase the coldness in his heart, but now that marble face held such defeat, it chilled Maglor to the bones. Maedhros opened his mouth, as if to say something, but he did not seem able to find the words. He lowered his head, then got up on his feet and began to wander off.  
Maglor was frozen to the spot. He didn’t know for how long he had remained there, but at last he ran after his brother.  
He searched for him in the woods, trying to follow his dragging footprints. The wood reached far and was mercilessly overgrown with thorns, but when it ended he could smell the unmistakable stench of sulphur.  
There he was, right at the edge, silhouetted by the fiery light from below. Like a statue, so silent he was, almost tranquil as he gazed down into the fire. But panic seized Maglor at the danger of the situation. His brother had _finally_ broken. Maglor had waited for it for so long, cause then, just maybe, there could be hope. But not like this! Not like this!

“Brother! Step back from there!”

Maedhros did not respond. Maglor felt the panic beating in his chest and it made his mouth dry as sand. He had to get Maedhros away from the edge. He feared what would happen if he stared to long into the fire. What thoughts and ideas would not fester in his shattered mind?

“ _Brother, please!_ ” — his call was desperate, and his voice cracked.

Finally, _finally_ , Maedhros turned around. He wasn’t crying anymore, but the expression Maedhros had now frightened Maglor even more. It was completely dead. His eyes were blank and hollow and his mouth was hanging slightly open. The scars ran across his face and its rough surfaces left long shadows across his mutilated features in the harsh light from below. No other explanation was more fitting than the cold calm look of death, as Maedhros now faced his terrified little brother.  
The silmarils still burned and boiled in their hands, and none of them felt it anymore, but for very different reasons. Maglor stepped forward and held out his free hand, trying not to shake.

“ _Maitimo_ … please, step away from the edge. Come”

Maedhros stared at Maglor’s hand and frowned almost innocently in confusion. He tried to find the words he couldn’t form earlier. Maglor could see him struggle to form the sentence that plagued his heart, and at last, he found something in his fogged mind.

“What now, little brother? _What now?_ ” — His voice was broken, almost like a confused child, looking to his parents in hope for answers.

“We’ll figure it out together, I promise! Just… _Just take my hand, please!_ ”

As he too eagerly stepped forward Maedhros stepped backwards, and to Maglor’s horror he heard stones fall off the edge beneath Maedhros’ boots as his heels now rested over the edge. Maedhros looked back over his shoulder, swaying to find his balance.

“… I don’t think I can…” — Maedhros murmured.

In despair Maglor saw how fascinated his brother was by the fire, and in their seductive promise of destruction, Maedhros found a more desirable answer.

“ _Yes you can! Yes you can! Just take my hand!_ ”

Maglor’s outstretched arm and hand trembled violently, but he did not dare to come any closer, in fear of him stepping backwards again in his absentminded state. Upset noises escaped Maglor’s throat and Maedhros slowly turned to look him in the eyes. He had seen those eyes in all of his brothers right before their death. Now they stared at him once more in the defeated face of the only one left.  
The brother he had followed, dismissing all of his own sound judgement advising him not to. He had followed him through the darkness and chaos and destruction; all that the oath had ever given them. Down into the mud of the world and beyond had he gone, not for the oath, but for his brother. He had wanted to abandon the oath many times over, but every time his brother had kept him from doing so. He had been ready to surrender to Eonwe but his brother had kept him from doing so. He had gone willingly into the night and slaughtered innocents over and over again. He had faced his own corruption and doom, and he had done it all because he had loved and hated his brother.

“Don’t _leave_ me…” — Maglor said in a last desperate attempt to reach him.

Tears rushed to his eyes, and his throat narrowed. He didn’t want to be left alone with his shame. Maedhros was as tainted as him. They were the last kinslayers, the last of the oath swearers, the last sons of Feanor. Together they had done unspeakable things and he’d be damned if they didn’t suffer the consequences together as well!  
Maedhros smiled the sweetest of goodbyes, and took one more step backwards into nothing.

Maglor kicked the blanket off as he woke up.  
He quickly got on his feet and found something to drink. His hands were shaking still from the adrenalin, his body was cold and drenched in sweat, his mouth so very dry. The cool water calmed his nerves a little and he tried to calm his breathing as well.  
After a short moment he turned his attention to his brother who was still sleeping soundly and undisturbed. He looked even more peaceful and beautiful asleep. And that was when he felt them: that wave of choking emotions he had thought gone. But this time, _this time_ , it was not directed at himself. Anger. Pure, raw, unspeakable anger.  
He threw the water bag to the ground, picked up a branch close by and marched towards Maedhros. The noises had reached him and he started to wake up. He looked up and rubbed his eyes.

“Maglor..? What is—“

**SMACK**

The branch hit him right on his left temple and flung him across the ground. It knocked him unconscious on the spot. Maglor stood still for a moment with the branch in his hand trying to pace his breath. Then he sighed deeply and brushed back the hair from his face. He glanced down at his brother as he laid ungraciously in the dirt.

“Did you really think you could just show up and that everything would be fine? _You treacherous piece of shit_ ”


	2. Chapter 2

Maedhros moaned and grunted as he slowly regained his consciousness. Maglor had left a nice bruise on the side of his head and it pulsed painfully along with his heartbeat. He tried to reach the area of pain but realised that he was unable to do so. Maglor relished in the look of slow realisation dawning on his brother’s face, when he saw that he was tied up; and thanks to Maglor’s weird sense of humour, he had tied Maedhros in such a way, that his right arm was raised above his head.

“ _What the…?_ ” — Maedhros mumbled in confusion to himself. He tried to break free, but the ropes were tied too thoroughly around the tree and him. His struggle was desperate as a long buried memory crawled its way back from a far corner of his mind. He was near panic when a greeting pierced through is reminiscence.

“Good morning, brother!” — Maglor exclaimed enthusiastically and immediately gained his brother’s attention. The startled look on his face was too amusing for Maglor and he smiled deviously. Maedhros’ eyes widened as he saw what Maglor was wearing, and Maglor smiled the more.

“I actually think it suits me more than you. Don’t you think so?” — He said and proudly showed off his brother’s valinorian clothes on himself. He spread out his cloak like wings and put his right foot to rest on top of a large stone. The clothes were too big for him in length and width, because of his starved physique, but none the less displayed them vainly. He tried to mimic Curufin, cause who better than the prince of vanity himself. The luxurious jewellery with the green gems he carefully adorned himself with as he looked into a handheld mirror. He glanced past the mirror back at his brother, whose mouth hung open in surprise.

“I also think that _you_ look far better in those clothes than I ever did”

He pointed at Maedhros with the mirror in a loose manner, who immediately directed his perplexed stare at himself. He was wearing Maglor’s dirty ragged clothes. They were too big for Maglor to begin with, so they fit Maedhros just about right; the pants were a bit too short though. Maglor had swapped their clothes and tied him to a tree… why on earth would he do that?   
Maglor adjusted the jewellery and hummed a happy tune. Slowly, confused, Maedhros lifted his head and looked at him again.

“Maglor… _Brother_ , I don’t understand..” — his voice was so innocent and it was followed by a nervous smile and careful laugh. Maglor just shot him a glare, which made him even more uncomfortable, and with a sharp, uncaring voice replied.

“See, that’s the problem. You don’t understand. You never did” — he sounded disappointed but not surprised and gestured lazily with the mirror as he spoke. Maedhros continued to look confused and Maglor only wanted to smack him across the head again but restrained himself… for now at least.   
He put away the mirror, pushed a piece of wood in front of Maedhros and sat down. He graciously corrected his clothing with exaggerated, almost mockingly, grand gestures. Maedhros watched him, not knowing what to make of it. Once Maglor had adjusted himself he clapped his hands together and rubbed them in anticipation.

“Well, then! let’s get started!”

“ _What?_ ” — Maedhros lifted an eyebrow and the corners of his mouth twitched into a nervous smile. Maglor could see that he had yet to take this situation seriously. But he would soon enough, if he continued to be difficult.

“How old are you?” — he asked with a smile, not showing his desire to hit him.

“What is the meaning of this?” — Maedhros shrugged and tried to gesture how absurd he thought this situation to be. His smile made Maglor’s blood boil.

“Answer the question; how old are you?” — He continued in the same tone of voice, not showing his increasing temper.

“Makalaure, if this is some kind of joke, I find it in very poor taste, I mean… my arm! Ha! What are you trying to tell me?“ — he pointed with his head towards his tied up arm, still wearing that smiling expression of a fool.

“How. Old. Are. You? — Maedhros was seriously testing his patience.

“Brother, this is ridi—“

Maglor slapped him across the cheek with a flat hand faster than Maedhros had been able to see. His head flung to the right and left a burning handprint. The shock left him out of breath for a moment. Maglor’s face remained cold and unmoved, still waiting for an answer. Slowly Maedhros moved his head back in place. His eyes burned with disbelief.

“You… _Slapped_ me?!”

“Would you like me to do it again? How old are you?”

Maglor saw that Maedhros finally began to understand that he was not joking. His smile had disappeared and his stare was hard and wide open in shock. A hint of anger could be seen in the twitching of his muscles. Still waiting for an answer, Maglor raised his hand and gave Maedhros a look of warning. He lowered his head in angry compliance.

“… 97” — he answered through tightly clenched teeth as he looked to the ground. Maglor became completely silent and needed a moment to fully understand what he had just said. His eyes got big in amazement and he started to laugh. A loud, mocking laughter rolled from his lips and his whole body trembled and shook in his amusement.

“Oh, Maitimo! You’re not even of age yet! Did mother have to give you permission to leave?” — He said, while he held his hands to his rips and stomach. He had laughed so much it was hurting, and Maedhros’ increasingly humiliated expression only made it worse.

“Maglor, _stop it!_ ” — He hissed, face all red. Maglor leapt forward in an unexpected fast motion, grabbed him by his hair and pulled his head backwards, bending his neck into an uncomfortable position. Maedhros gasped out of shock and sudden pain. Maglor was so close to his face he could almost feel the ill intentions drip from his words as his breath fogged his skin.

“ _No!_ I have been following you all of my life! No more! So now it’s time for you to shut the fuck up, and start doing as I say!” — Maglor said in a vile, forceful whisper.

His strained neck made it difficult for Maedhros to breathe, and he made noises of struggling until Maglor finally violently let go of his hair. He breathed hard as he slowly adjusted his pained neck, following his brother with his eyes.   
Maglor returned to his seat. His gaze was cold as ice. His anger had not been soothed yet. Maedhros’ glare was a mix of rebellion and anger. Maglor started to see a bit of the brother he remembered in him. _Good_ , he thought to himself, _progress_.

“Next question!” — he loudly exclaimed — “How many of our brothers are reborn?”

Maedhros just stared at him, reluctant to play his game. Maglor arched an eyebrow in warning.

“Maitimo?”

“… Amrod and Amras were reborn first…” — Maedhros stopped his sentence. He wanted to rebel against his brother’s crazy interrogation. _Interrogation?_

“Come now, we have more brothers than that”

Maedhros snarled, but continued hesitantly none the less.

“Then Caranthir… Then I… Celegorm and Curufin have yet to leave the halls as well as father and grandfather…”

He felt defeated and his shoulders lowered in shame. His face matched the colour of his hair.

“well, then!” — Maglor pushed himself up from his seat energetically and strolled towards the fireplace. He had gotten what he wanted; Maedhros’ submission. He cared little for the things he had told him, but he had needed to test his stubbornness. Of course, his brother only complied so easily cause he felt no real threat nor consequence in telling these things. But to bow his head to his little brother, to have their natural roles exchanged in such a way, was nothing more than humiliatingly shameful, Maglor thought to himself gleefully.   
Maedhros followed him with his eyes, a low flame burned low but steadily in them, and he curled his lip into a snarl.

“How about some breakfast?” — Maglor asked cheerfully — “Would you like some, _brother?_ ”

 

* * *

 

Maglor fed him. It was humiliating. He carefully, almost lovingly cut the meat and bread into small pieces fit for a mouthful, and gently moved the food to Maedhros’ lips, who resentfully accepted it. He smiled at Maedhros like he was a child obeying his parent.   
Maedhros still tried to figure out the meaning of it all. Why had his own brother ambushed him and tied him up? Why did he seek to humiliate him so? This was not how he had imagined it to be, and in the back of his mind he sensed a fire slowly being brought back to life. A fire he himself had killed off so many ages ago. He tried to kill it again in his quiet mind. He dared not bring it back, no matter how tempting.  
He swallowed.

“This isn’t so hard, now is it? Being told what to do?” — Maglor praised him. He relished in his brother’s burning glare. He simply returned it with an arrogant smile, then a cruel light flickered in his eyes.

“You know, this really brings me back; it’s just like when you were recovering. Do you remember?”

Maglor pointed to Maedhros’ raised arm with the knife, and his heart stopped for a short moment.

“When our _dear_ cousin saved you from that cliff”

Maglor’s melodious voice danced over every word, like he was telling a fairy tale, and slowly the knife moved ever closer to his wrist.

“When he _cut_ off your hand”

Maedhros watched in fear as the knife now rested on his wrist, but he did not move, not even flinch. He examined his brother’s face. It was impossible to read.   
_He wouldn’t,_ Maedhros told himself, _he wouldn’t!_   
A drop of sweat ran from his brow, and he swallowed hard in nervousness as his throat tightened. The cool touch of metal against his burning skin.  
A sigh of relief rolled through him, when Maglor removed the knife and sat back down. _He wouldn’t._ He continued the feeding and Maedhros accepted the food, but he looked a bit paler now. Maglor smiled with fake concern.

“You were near dead when he brought you back to us. So far from your previous grace and splendour, and look at you know!” — Maglor’s gaze turned dark — “As if it _never even happened_ ”

Maedhros remained silent, and continued to receive Maglor’s feeding. He examined any feature he could see in Maglor’s face; any twitch of muscle, any unguarded look of the eye, anything that would somehow help him figure out what he was thinking. But Maglor had always been good at hiding his thoughts when he wished to, and only ever showed what he wanted others to see. But he wasn’t himself right now. He had a battle raging inside of him, that much Maedhros could see. But he had to know more. Perhaps Maglor would let down his guards just enough for him to peek inside.   
Maglor’s dark eyes changed into a teasing nuance, mouth curling up into a wicked grin.

“How is our _beloved Findekano_ , anyway? _I can imagine your nights have been warmer of late_ ”

Maedhros spat the chewed food back in his face. The fire in the back Maedhros’ mind flared up, and he could barely control it anymore. Maglor saw the fire burning in his eyes. He wiped his face with the sleeve of the beautiful shirt, unmoved and unimpressed.

“Now I am beginning to recognise you, _brother_ ” — his voice as cold as ice.

“ _I am not playing your sick little game anymore! Why are you doing this?_ ” — he hissed. He had reached his limit. Brother or not, this was going too far.  
Maglor slowly leaned in closer, like a hunter moving in on its prey. He got intimidatingly close to his face, hand resting on the tree right beside his right ear. Maedhros did not show fear and did not look away from his brother’s piercing gaze, but he had never seen such fury in it before.   
Vileness and bitterness dripped from his voice as he answered in a low, threateningly slow, whispery snarl.

“ _You left_ ”

Maedhros went silent, and Maglor slowly returned to his seat. His amazed look soon transformed into disbelief, then into anger. He jerked in his ties as the adrenaline of his rage shot through his blood.

“Are you fucking joking?! _I left?!_ ”

He wanted to grab Maglor and knock some sense into him till he laid bloody beneath his fists. How fucking dare he do this to him! And it was because of his suicide? Had he gone completely mad?  
Maglor looked at him with disappointment and disgust, curling his lip. His hand with the knife trembled as he tightened his grip around it.

“You still don’t see it, do you?” — He asked, putting his other hand on top of the trembling one. He tried to hold back the unspeakable urge he felt raising in him.

“ _See what!?_ ” — Maedhros almost yelled, out of pure frustration.

Maglor sighed and got up. The plate with food in his lap fell to the ground as he walked away, still clutching the knife tightly.   
He left Maedhros tied to the tree and did not look back despite his brother’s furious calls and hateful curses.

 

* * *

 

Maedhros woke up when he heard noises around him. 

Someone was in the camp with him. Had Maglor returned? He had left him in the early morning and now the moon looked down from above the trees. His body ached from being tied for so long in this awkward position. He tried to see who was with him but it was very dark.   
He was about to call out, when he heard the unmistakable grunts and snarls of an orc. The stench soon reached him as well and left him convinced.   
A wave of fear washed over him. _He was defenceless_. He tried to stay as quiet as possible. If he was discovered who knew what that beast would do to him. A faint memory shot through his bones and made his body cold and numb. _Long nails that pierced his skin and made him scream. Heat, and cold all at once. Blood, shattered bones, torn tissue, blurred vision, voices. So many voices. A song._  
The orc scattered through his belongings, probably in search for something to eat or things to steal and sell. Maedhros felt cold sweat run down his neck, wetting his back as the minutes dragged on for an eternity. He prayed that the beast would soon be satisfied and be on its way, but to his horror he saw how the orc’s nose flared and moved. It had caught the smell of something tasty.   
The plate with food from this morning still laid in the grass where Maglor had dropped it; just at Maedhros’ feet.   
The orc searched for where the smell came from and with its snout in the air it narrowed in on him. Their eyes locked in a gaze of equal surprise. Then the orc smiled and licked its lips. It had found its dinner.   
Maedhros struggled in his restraints and tried to get free as the orc walked slowly towards him. It readied its dagger, and kneeled before him to get a closer look. It grabbed him by the jaw and turned his face to each side for further inspection. The foul smell contorted Maedhros face into disgust and its harsh touch on his skin felt like acid. His skin screamed out in agony and panic beneath the revolting touch. The orc grinned in satisfaction and Maedhros’ eyes widened as it raised its dagger to strike.   
He felt the warm touch of blood on him and for a moment he was certain it was his own. He had been struck. He was going back to Mandos. A part of him was relieved at the thought, but then the orc fell to the ground and Maglor came forth from behind it. In his hand was the knife he had wandered off with, stained in the orc’s blood, from when he had driven it into its neck.

“There are still some of them left” — Maglor said a little out of breath. Maedhros remained silent. He stared at the twitching body before him. He had hoped never to see one of them ever again and now one had gotten this close to kill him off. Maglor flung the knife away, disgusted by the blood. Then he gazed back at Maedhros whose eyes were fixed on the orc. He kneeled in front of him and looked at him with something that could be interpreted as concern.

“Are you hurt?” — he asked, looking him straight in the eyes.

“… No… You got here in time, before it…” — Maedhros’ mouth was dry and the words got stuck in his throat. Maglor looked at how tense Maedhros’ body was, and yet his right hand was completely numb and hung lifeless from the wrist. He laid a hand on his shoulder to reassure him that the danger had passed. It calmed his body a bit, but he did flinch at first at his touch. Their eyes locked and Maedhros nodded.

Maglor removed the body and sat it ablaze. Then he returned to his brother. They sat in silence for a while and watched the body be engulfed by flames. For a moment they were back in Beleriand.

“I’m sorry” — Maglor’s words were almost impossible to hear, if it wasn’t because of how unexpected they were. Maedhros looked at him immediately to make certain he had heard correctly. Maglor’s face was deep in thought, and his eyes showed true regret.

“I’m sorry” — he repeated and slowly turned his head to look at him. Maedhros didn’t hide his surprise, but after a moment, when Maglor’s apology had sunk in, he nodded in acceptance. Maglor then got up and released his right hand from the ties. He grunted in pain as Maglor gently moved his arm. The joints were stiff and his muscles sore. His skin pricked like it was being pierced with many needles as the blood rushed back into his flesh. He opened and closed his hand.

“Thank you…” — he said in a subtle voice.

“I wanted to hurt you” — Maglor said, voice low and honest; this was a confession — “I wanted to make you suffer. I hated you like I hated myself” — He did not look Maedhros in the eyes as he spoke. It was almost as if he didn’t speak to him at all, but Maedhros listened intensely to his words.

“I had _grieved_ for so long… so long, Maitimo. An ugly, merciless grief, had taken a home in my body, and left no room for kindness nor love. Such guilt and shame, I cannot begin to even comprehend it myself. And the _hate! The hate_ ” — he spat out those words through his teeth — “The hate was the worst. Everyday I wanted to hurt myself, even kill myself. But as much as those thoughts wanted me dead, it was also them that kept me alive”

He stopped talking and stared up at the moon. Maedhros could see now that he was revealing his innermost thoughts to him. He was baring his soul.   
Maglor knew deep down, that the only person he would ever be able to tell this to, was him. And perhaps that was why his transformation had kindled the hate in him. He feared that he had lost that person. Lost the only one in the world who might ever truly understand his struggle. His confidant. His equal.   
As the silence dragged out, Maedhros hesitantly began to speak.

“How did they keep you alive? Why did you not follow me?”

He understood the importance of what Maglor was sharing. He had to hear it. Maglor’s eyes met his, and he saw the moon light reveal how wet they actually were.   
_There was his little brother; Makalaure._

“… How could I ever face them again?” — His voice was so thin and brittle — “I stayed alive so that I wouldn't be reborn. I have envied the gift of men for so long. To simply leave this world and never return. Eru was so merciful in his blessing of the second born. I didn’t understand Elros’ choice when he made it, but I have learned it since. Elros had somehow figured it all out. Perhaps because he grew up in such chaos? Never the less, he was always so wise beyond his years, that boy. Elrond had too much admiration for our race to see it. What a blessing they were given. To choose your own fate. Imagine”

Maglor’s gaze was so distant as if he was dreaming. Maedhros could do nothing but listen. He didn’t know how to respond, other than placing his freed hand on top of his brother’s. They remained silent for a moment again. The only noise came from the burning body not so far away. Its flickering light illuminated their dark faces every now and then.

“And then, _finally_ , I was allowing myself to be happy!” — Maglor continued, his voice more strong as it broke through the sadness. Its force startled Maedhros a little.

“You cannot begin to imagine how strange that was for me! I was _happy_ and somehow it was all right for me to be so? The self loathing was _gone_!”

He took Maedhros’ hand in both of his and squeezed it tightly. Their eyes met yet again, but something in them made Maedhros uneasy.

“But I am _still_ angry, Maedhros”

His little brother was disappearing again; behind his eyes, he could see the battle raging on.

“I am _furious!_ I thought I was free of it! but no, my hate had simply found another victim. You wandered right into its claws and it lashed itself onto you. Still, it burns in my bones and drowns my thoughts. _How I hate you!_ ”

His sad eyes and venomous words made Maedhros want to retrieve his hand but maglor’s grip was strong and he was unable to retreat from it. His eyes hauntingly stared at him.

“I don’t want to hate you, brother… I am sick and tired of hating! Will you help me?”

His question was almost a begging, and Maedhros still tried to break free from his hands. Maglor moved his hand to his heart and squeezed it more violently now.

“ _Please_ ” — he frowned in concern and fear. In his face Maedhros saw something that made him fear what might happen if he refused. He gave up his resistance, and looked him deep in his grieved and hateful eyes. His little brother needed him. Behind those crazed eyes he called out to him. How could he not answer his call?

“… What would you have me do?” — he said, determined but no less concerned.

A breath of relief and surprise escaped Maglor’s lips and he smiled, then frowned, then smiled again, and a tear of an unknown emotion ran down his cheek.

“What do you need of me?” — Maedhros asked again. Maglor wiped away the tear and looked confused, as if he didn’t really know how Maedhros could help him. Then he finally gathered his thoughts.

“I need… I need to see the brother I remember… I need you to do that for me”

Maedhros eyes widened in horror. His heart started to beat feverishly fast in his chest as the first signs of panic started to run through his body. How could he ask that of him?

“No…” — his voice was so thick with disbelief and refusal. Maglor squeezed his brother’s hand tighter to his heart. Desperation was painted all over his face and he almost stuttered his words.

“I-I don’t think I can let go of my hate until I see you like that again. I need to… I need to see the worst of you!”

Maedhros finally managed to get his hand free, and forcefully retrieved it from Maglor’s grasp. A small gasp escaped him as he lost his grip, and with trembling hands almost reached out after it.

“Maglor, no, I have moved past that” — He frowned pleadingly — “I have buried that part of me! What ever you wish to see, it’s gone. It’s in the past. Don’t linger there, Brother. Come with me to Valinor. Let us defeat this part of our lives together, and _forget_ it!” — his voice was firm and indicated no room for negotiation. He reached out his hand again to his brother, asking him to take it in acceptance of his words, but Maglor slapped it away in bitter refusal.

“ _Don’t!_ ” — Maglor’s eyes burned — “Don’t you dare say “ _forget it_ ”! How can you even..!”

He had trusted his brother to listen! He had told him the painful truth. he had begged him for his help and he had agreed to give it, and now… now he deserted him again. _Forget it?_ Impossible. He didn’t want to forget. He couldn't allow himself to do so. It would be a mockery to all those he had wronged. It would be dishonest to himself. It would be a lie. His chest was swelling with hate and hurt, swirling and twisting and making him sick.   
His brother disgusted him. How could he say those things?

“Maglor please!” — Maedhros’ voice cracked in his heartbreaking call but Maglor straightened his back and hid his thoughts and feelings behind a calm cold stare.

“You asked me what I needed. Well, here’s your answer; show me the worst of you, cause I know it is still in you. It has to be. And I am not leaving for Valinor until I see it”

“Think of mother! She is waiting for us! _For you!_ ”

Maglor did not move.

“I am not going anywhere near her as long as I have _this_ inside of me. I am not going anywhere near anyone that I love, cause Eru forbid it, my hate might turn on them as well” — His words dripped with viciousness — “Be thankful that you were the one that came for me. You can handle this”

Maedhros grabbed Maglor’s upper arm firmly with his right hand. In the back of his mind he felt the fire return, and Maglor could see it flicker in his eyes. He also saw that Maedhros desperately wanted to tell him something, but he held his tongue, loosened his firm grip and lowered his head.

“It’s your choice, Maitimo. You came to bring me home, to _save_ me, did you not?”

He pulled free from his grip and walked to the fireplace.

“Dinner?”

“Why did you call for us?”

“What?”

“If you are so against going home, then _why did you call_?”

Maglor was silent for a moment with his back to Maedhros.

“I didn’t”

 

* * *

 

A few days later Maglor noted that they had food enough for another week or so. Even longer if he only ate every other day. He was used to starving, his brother on the other hand… Well, it all depended on his stubbornness in the end; on how long he was going to fight him. Maglor started to wonder at what he could do to speed up the process.   
He had enough reason in him to drown out the desires of his hate, that seduced him to the most vicious thoughts. He still had enough sanity in him to know that he loved his brother and that he did not want him harmed. But the hate was so strong at times it was tempting to stop fighting it and just give in. That was the reason he had left that day and gone into the woods. _The knife_ in his hand… He had had to drown the hate out before he seriously harmed his brother. How thankful he was that he had returned in time. If his brother had died because of his recklessness… no, he didn't dare think that.  
Maedhros was still tied to the tree with his right arm free. Maglor glanced over his shoulder at him. He was beginning to get fatigued and it showed in his face. A mix of guilt and satisfaction rolled in his stomach and made him sick.   
He continued to check their supplies, and while doing so, he hummed a tune from their youth.   
To his surprise Maedhros joined in, and they slowly started to sing it together. A song of the light of the two trees and the grace of the valar. It was a song for feasts and celebrations. He had sung it often at such occasions, but at his own wedding, Maedhros had taken his place and performed it for them. Maglor had smiled at him in a teasing way and twitched his eyes every time he didn’t hit a note perfectly enough. He had sung it beautifully but he so enjoyed making his brother uncomfortable when he was before the public eye. His wife had elbowed him when she noticed his bullying.   
The song came to an end.

“You remember, don’t you?” — Maglor asked softly. Maedhros nodded reminiscent and smiled.

“You didn’t have a dead animal on your face then, but a beautiful woman on your arm. Also, I was more comfortably seated”

Maglor didn’t look at him, but he could hear the big grin spread across his face as he said it. Maglor sighed deeply and his head fell heavily down.

“True, true, all-though I would have to disagree with you on the “dead animal” part. It’s a _beard_! It happens when you get to my age. Get over it”

He continued to look through Maedhros’ belongings, his back against him, so he didn’t see the smile.

“Your wife would agree with me. You should shave before she sees you” — Maedhros said teasingly.   
Maglor stopped immediately what he was doing. His sudden stillness surprised Maedhros. They were silent for a small moment. Then Maglor broke it with a careful, almost fearful voice.

“Is she… Are we…”

He dared not even ask, but Maedhros had used _that word_.

“— still married? Yes. You’re still husband and wife. We’ve talked a lot about you. She—”

“I don’t want to hear it”

Maglor cut him off before he could tell him too much. He started going through their supplies again as an indication that their conversation had ended.   
Maedhros frowned in worry.

“Maglor… She lo—“

“ _She loved me in my carefree youth!_ ” — Maglor snapped loudly, pushing the bag in his hands away and crossing his arms in irritation.

“But I am no longer young” — he gestured to the beard — “nor carefree and I have not been so for a long time”

He spoke in such a manner that there could be no doubt that the discussion had ended. He sounded like their father for a moment, and it made both of them uncomfortable.   
Maedhros sighed loudly, and though Maglor did not look at him, he could clearly hear him roll his eyes at him. Silence fell between them again, but this time it was even more awkward, cause now Maglor just sat there doing nothing, like a grumpy child.  
Realising the ridiculousness of it all he got to his feet.

“Are you hungry?” — he asked, brushing off the dirt from his, _brother’s_ , clothes.

“No, but I would love to be able to go for a walk! I can’t feel my ass anymore!” — Maedhros complained, but he was only met with a devious smile on Maglor’s face.  
 “I could tie a leash to you?” — Maglor teased.

“Your humour is sick, little brother” — Maedhros snarled, but there was a hint of amusement in his voice.

 

* * *

 

As Maglor lit the fire and prepared for dinner, his mind wandered off to more pleasant times.   
Times full of love and smiles, tender embraces and hearty laughs.   
His wife had been his whole existence. Then darkness fell… and they had fought and yelled and screamed at each other — _“You swore the oath didn’t you!” — “I can’t abandon my father and brothers!”_ — they had ended the fight in each others arms, desperately clinging to the other and making promises impossible to keep.   
He had left her while she slept. Shamefully sneaking away to join his brothers. They had seen his red eyes and said nothing. Curufin had cradled a sleeping Celebrimbor to his chest, and when their eyes met, none of the brothers could claim themselves better than the other; both had crept away without their loved ones’ blessing. _But at least_ , Maglor had thought, _he did not steal a child from its mother_.  
The fire grew stronger, and the flames flickered and danced and bathed him in its warmth and kindness.  
His thoughts wandered from his wife, to another who had loved him. One who had loved him at his worst. His face must have given him away, cause somehow Maedhros had guessed his thoughts.

“… There’s someone else?” — his voice was a mix of judgemental surprise and disapproval — “ _Who? When?_ ”

Maglor glanced over at him, considering if he should share it with him or not. What did he have to lose? Maedhros could not taint his memories. What had happened, had happened, and the memories will forever warm his cold nights.

“Her name, was Estemiel. She was a Numenorian princess, the daughter of Tindomiel… Granddaughter of Elros…”

Maedhros’ mouth fell open. He looked like a fish, Maglor thought.

“ _Elros!?_ You fooled around with Elros’ granddaughter?” — Maedhros couldn’t help but laugh at the absurdity — “You raised her grandfather! You’re technically her great-grandfather. Did she have daddy issues or what?”

Maglor’s body tensed at his words and a cold fire roared through his bones. He turned violently around to face his brother.

“I did not _fool_ around with her! Don’t you dare speak of her like that! You did _not_ know her!”

Maglor was furious and he pointed at Maedhros with a knife very threateningly. Maedhros was stunned at his violent reaction, becoming completely silent as he stared uneasily at the crazed look on Maglor’s face.   
He blinked a couple of times before he lowered the knife. He too, had not expected such an outburst. This was worse than Caranthir.

“… I’m sorry.. I…”

Maglor tried to gather his thoughts while he was apologising. He didn’t like that reaction at all. Maedhros saw it, and knew that he had hit a vulnerable spot.

“No, I should not have said that. I am sorry… What happened?” — he asked, truly remorseful.

Maglor rubbed his neck in contemplation and looked back up at his brother. His judgemental look had disappeared.

“… She was mortal. She died. We both knew it couldn’t last, but…”

He looked away, as he hesitated to continue.

“But, what?”

Maedhros wanted him to keep going. Out of concern, curiosity, guilt even, but mostly out of brotherly love, hoping that he might reach his little brother that was calling out to him behind those sad eyes.  
Maglor thought for a little while, but then he gave in and continued.

“… It still hurts. Even when you know it’s inevitable, it still hurts. And you know that she won’t come back. That’s the worst part of loving a mortal; they stay dead”

Maglor smiled sadly at the last sentence, failing in his attempt at lightning the mood. He turned his gaze to Maedhros again, still smiling his sad smile.

“I’m sorry about that morning. I shouldn’t have talked to you like that about Fingon”

Maedhros flinched when he said his name, but Maglor didn’t notice it.

“I know you love him dearly, and he you. I am glad that your nights have been warmer, brother, I truly am. Despite the hate in me, I can honestly say that I do wish you happiness”

It was a strange thing to say. He could hear it as the words came out, but sometimes the truth didn’t always makes sense.   
Maglor’s smile faded, when all he could see was misery in Maedhros’ eyes. He frowned in confusion, but then it dawned on him, lifting a hand to his mouth as he gasped in realization.

“Don’t tell me that… _still?_ ”

Maedhros lowered his head closing his eyes tightly. When he opened them again he glanced briefly at his right hand in his lap.

“He remains in Mandos. He has not yet left the halls” — His voice was so low, Maglor could hardly hear it. But he did. Maglor knew that he should have felt sadness for his brother, but the hate took root in his mind and spread its ugliness with its wicked twisted perception. It overpowered his sanity, silencing his voice of reason.   
His face slowly contorted into an ugly mask of rage.

“ _So that’s why you’re here!_ ” — He hissed through his clenched jaw.

Maedhros quickly looked up at him in disbelief over his sudden outburst of anger.

“You can’t warm yourself in your lover’s arms, so you go look for your lost little brother? Tell me, If Findekano was with you, would you still have left Valinor!?”

Maedhros was disgusted by the accusations Maglor poured out of his black mind. His jaw tightened as he forcefully drew in a breath and shot him a glare of contempt.   
Calmly, but no less sharply he answered back.

“ _Truly_ , you don’t know me if that is what you believe to be my reasons for coming here. I came to bring you home! I came out of love and caring!”

_Lies! Lies! Why does he lie!?_   
Maglor felt his blood boiling and his body shook from the adrenaline of his rage. Angry tears flooded his vision, but none fell. He continued his accusations in the same resentful tone of voice.

“You came out of guilt! I saw it in your eyes the day you found me. You’re ashamed of leaving me behind, and now you’ve come back to make things right, is that it?”

Above them clouds gathered and the first drop of rain fell on Maglor’s cheek. It could have evaporated from the heat beneath his skin.

“Why is love such a hard concept for you to grasp? Do you doubt my intentions so strongly? What have I done to deserve such an ill will from you?” — Maedhros asked, and his question made Maglor shoot him a wicked laugh of spite.

“ _Oh_ , I told you already. But you _still_ don’t seem to understand?”

His brow moved up in a mocking yet worried concerned frown.  
He hoped, no, prayed that Maedhros would somehow understand by now. Please, prove him wrong in this! _Please, please, understand!_  
But Maglor’s hopes were destroyed by his brother’s harsh and immediate reply.

“Me killing myself? No you’re right, _I don’t understand!_ Why don’t you try and fucking explain it to me!”

_Fine. So be it._

“ _You betrayed me_ ”

“I _betrayed_ you?!”

Out of all of the accusations Maglor had thrown at him, this was the worst. He had never betrayed him! All he ever did was for his family. All the suffering he endured for those he loved… The memories made him cringe.   
Did he fail? Oh, yes he had failed them all, but never, never, had he _betrayed_ them!  
The rain started falling as the sky grew darker above them.

“You ran away when things got tough and abandoned me when I needed you there the most” — Maglor continued to explain. His heart ached and burned. He could hardly see through the tears anymore.

“You were there, for goodness sake! You know what demons I battled” — Maedhros could have screamed at him, but he was so angry that his words were pulled forcefully from his mouth instead.  
Maglor looked at him like he couldn't believe how stupid he was. He lifted his hands to his hair and pulled at it in frustration, making noises that matched his temper.

“Yes, I was _there_! That’s the point, you bloody fool!” — He finally yelled.

“ _I was there_ when you needed me to be! I watched you crumble. I followed you through it all, as you descended further into your bloodthirsty _insanity_ , and you forced me to keep true to the oath, when I would have abandoned it. You forced me to lie to myself and believe in it, when all I wanted to do was to rip out the tongue that had uttered those words so long ago! _And I was there_ , through it all, but when the bloody oath failed us, _YOU WEREN’T THERE!_ ”

Maglor almost screamed at him, and the pure impact rendered Maedhros speechless, as the power of those last words slammed him against the body of the tree. Maglor was breathing hard. His chest moved fast under his rain soaked clothes.   
_To hell with it!_

“ _You_ couldn't handle the consequences and you decided to just _leave_. You forced me to share in your crimes, but when the judgement came, you refused to share in our punishment” — his voice was so calm now, but the light in his eyes made Maedhros think of the one who had hung him to the cliff.   
A lightning flashed across the sky, illuminating them in the darkness. Maedhros stared wide eyed at his brother and Maglor could see that now he _finally_ understood.   
_But that wasn’t good enough._   
He had been forced to _explain_ it to him. _He had had to fucking spell it out to him, and that was just not good enough._   
Tears started falling from Maedhros’ eyes and Maglor cared nothing for it. He could weep all he wanted to, cause Maglor was done.   
He swiftly took a knife and marched right towards Maedhros.   
He did nothing to try and stop him. But as the knife fell, it did not cut into him. The ropes that had restrained him for so long fell into his lap. Maglor had released him.   
He threw the knife into the ground and marched off into the darkness. Disappearing once again out of reach.  
The rain kept pouring down, drenching the two brothers to the bone, and yet the fires in them did not quench.


	3. Chapter 3

The rain kept pouring down in the darkness, only illuminated by the lightning shooting across the sky, followed by wrathful roars. The thunderstorm matched Maglor’s grieving rage, as he stood at the edge of the forest, staring beyond the horizon.  
The landscape lowered down into a vast meadow or field. The forest encircled the valley and beyond it the mountains towered upwards into the wrath of the skies.   
He had left Maedhros and he had no intention of going back. He would go on, and face whatever destiny was meant for him. Never would he return to Valinor, and in order to do that, he would go on with this miserable existence. The weaver of fates had been unkind to him beyond belief.  
The storm raged on and a lightning ran across the landscape. In the distance he glimpsed the farm he had stolen the food and chocolate from so long ago.   
He descended the hill and walked towards it.

—

He looked at the farm as if he shouldn’t be there, which he agreed on, but he had to do this.   
The building’s dark silhouette, clouded by the heavy rain, judged him as he approached.   
_You dare return, thief?_ — he could hear it asking him, and he felt the familiar ugly sensation of shame in his gut.   
The rain whipped his face and the wind pulled violently at his clothes and hair in a taunting play.   
_How dare you return?_  
He took off the jewellery he still wore. Its value was beyond anything the farm could ever cultivate. He wrapped it in a piece of cloth he had torn off his pants, and almost like a ritual offering, laid it on the step in front of the door.   
He felt disgust at his own pathetic try to somehow pay his way out of his guilt, but it was the only thing he could do. If he could bring them a little bit of happiness, then to hell with his pride.  
He rose from his knees and turned to walk away. The house seemed less judgemental as he left.

—

The storm was merciless.  
He accepted its wrath.  
Where would he go now? It didn’t matter. Just… go.   
Go on until the end of all things. That was his fate; to forever pay for his crimes, forever homeless, restless, loveless. Yes, he deserved it all. He welcomed it, loving its cruelty, recognising his long lost friend. It had returned.  
 _The hate was back._  
 _Of course it was,_ he thought, i _t had never truly left._  
He collapsed against the side of a tree in exhaustion. As he slowly slid down to a seated position, the rough surface tore at the fine shirt. He curled up, trying to get warm and shielded from the storm.   
When the kind sleep of exhaustion finally claimed him, he drifted far away, into loving arms and warm sheets.

—

_“Darling?”_

He woke up with a strong muscle spasm. He felt as though he was falling out of bed, but he was still curled up against the tree. He rubbed his eyes and stretched his wet, cold, aching body, hair clinging to his face and back. His stomach complained and demanded food. He had gotten used to eating regularly now. Not good. He ignored the hunger and got to his feet.   
In the distance he could just faintly trace the silhouette of the farm. The morning made it seem more friendly. Perhaps they had found the jewellery by now? The thought warmed him a little as he wandered on to… anywhere… nowhere… just not here.

—

As the day dragged on and he had walked for hours, he could see that the clouds gathered once more to pour down its wrath upon him. He had left the forest a long time ago and was now in the middle of a large field. The autumn had taken the green from the grass, and the red leaves stained the ground like blood on a battlefield. Mud stuck to his boots and tried to keep him from taking another step. The earth became more and more difficult to tread on, and he stumbled more often the further he walked.   
The rain started falling. He had only just gotten dry, and quickly, he was once more drenched to the bone. He didn’t care any longer, and just marched on. He accidentally rested his right foot a little too long on the ground and when he tried to take another step, the mud had claimed his boot. It caused him to fall face down onto the ground. Mud clung to his clothes, hair and side of his face. He got on his elbows and glanced back at the boot that had sunk to deep into the soil, but something else caught his eyes.

_“MAGLOR!”_

There, not too far behind, Maedhros came towards him. Eyes fixed on Maglor with a burning determination, and his steps were steady and doubtless. Maglor quickly got back on his feet and pulled at his leg to get the boot free from the earth’s grasp. His brother got ever closer to him as he struggled. It was as if the mud was keeping him trapped on purpose.

“ _Don’t come any closer!_ ” — he screamed at him — “Go back home! Leave me be!”

Maedhros grimaced at his desperate pleading. His iron willed eyes showed little mercy.

“I am not abandoning you _twice!_ ” — Maedhros said with such certainty in his regal voice — “I am not leaving unless it is with you”

The distance between them narrowed and finally Maglor got free from the mud, he stumbled backwards and held out a hand to signal Maedhros to stop his approach.

“You cannot help me, Maitimo” — Maglor said between his struggling breaths, head low, not looking at his brother. He was so tired. He just wanted to be left alone. Could Maedhros not do him this kindness at least?  
But he approached him despite his words.

“If I cannot, then no one can”

As he said that, Maglor glanced up at him, but was knocked to the ground when Maedhros’ fist hit his jaw. Once again he laid in the mud, rain pouring down from above them. He grunted and stared hatefully back up at his brother, towering over him with that intense stubbornness.

“ _You bastard..!_ ” — Maglor hissed and felt his sore jaw with a careful muddy hand.

“I could say the same to you. You wanted to see the worst of me? Well, I am not playing your game anymore. I will force you back with me, bound on your hands and knees if necessary, or you can come with me willingly. The choice is yours”

“No, _please_ , I cannot go back. Don’t do this to me! To them!” — Maglor’s voice was so vulnerable and cracked a little. He was too exhausted to fight back. He just wanted his brother to listen. He would beg on his knees if he had too.  
Maedhros reached down, grabbed Maglor by the collar and lifted him up. He pulled him close and stared him in the eyes, while Maglor’s feet no longer touched the ground.

“I am doing it _for_ you, and for them” — Maglor could feel his breath on him as he snarled those words to him. Then he threw him backwards, landing a little unsteadily on his feet. He quickly looked nervously up at Maedhros, who had spread his arms out wide in a challenging manner.

“I promised our brothers and mother that I would bring you back to them. I promised your wife that I would find her husband, I promised your—“ — Maedhros stopped abruptly in his sentence. He had nearly said too much, but Maglor noticed his hesitation immediately. Again he saw the desperate desire in Maedhros’ eyes to tell him _something._

“What? Our brothers and mother, my wife and my _what?!_ ” — His frustration overcame his worried mind.  
Maedhros hesitated, unsure if should tell him or not. But perhaps it would be what his brother needed to hear. His gaze hardened as he straightened his back and drew in a breath.

“I don’t know how to tell you, but… Your wife, she’s not the only one waiting”

The way his brother had said that… What was he implying?

“What do you _mean?"_ — he nervously asked, frowning in careful fear, as he slowly started to regret his question. Maedhros took a step towards him.

“There’s someone else who has been waiting for your return. One you’ve never met”

_It couldn’t be._

“No. Don’t” — he said in a disbelieving whisper, begging his brother to stop. He shook his head and took a step backwards.

“Brother…” — Maedhros had a hint of pity in his voice, and he tried to make himself smaller and less threatening. His brows raised and met in a concerned frown. Should he really continue? He could see his brother struggle before him, but he knew, _he knew_ , that he had to go on.

“ _No_ ” — Maglor’s gaze was open in fear, staring distantly at him. _He didn’t want to hear it. He didn’t want to hear anymore. Stop._

“You have a daughter waiting for you in Valinor. She is beautiful”

Something shattered inside of Maglor and as the first lightning of the storm shot across the sky, he launched himself at Maedhros, roaring out his rage.

“ _Liar!_ ” — he screamed as they violently tumbled to the ground — “ _Deceiver!_ ”

“It’s the truth!” — He yelled back, desperately trying to reason with him, but his brother’s crazed eyes gave him little hope. He struggled against his firm grip, trying to push him off without injuring him.

“NO! It’s a trick to get me to go back with you!” — his voice was wild and delirious.

Maedhros had never seen him like this. He was truly frightened. _What had he done? Had he pushed too far? Had he lost his brother to insanity? And he was to blame for it! What had he done?_  
They wrestled on the ground, in the mud and blood coloured leaves. Maglor was tearing at his clothes, clawing at his chest, desperately keeping him pinned down beneath him. His wet hair hurled around his head, sticking to his face, and crowning him in his madness.

“I would have known! I would have _known!_ ” — He screamed over and over again, slamming Maedhros into the soil.   
_It was a lie! A vicious cruel lie!_ His brother tried to ruin the one comfort he had had all this time, that at least, he was childless; at least his wife had been free. A fatherless daughter? No, couldn’t bare that shameful burden. _It had to be lie. If nothing else, then let this be a lie!_  
Maedhros tried once more to get through to him.

“She discovered it after you had left! She—“

“ _ **NO!**_ ”

Maglor punched Maedhros on his right cheekbone with such force he spat out blood. He punched him again and again. He hit his nose and both felt and heard the crunch beneath his fist. As he lifted his hand to strike again he looked into Maedhros’ eyes and stopped.  
The fire that had been kept at bay for so long in the back of his mind, now flared up in full force. It burned with such power and its wrath shone like a white flame in his wild eyes.

 _There he was_ , the eldest son, kinslayer and oath swearer, king and commander, victim of insanity and suicide, dead and now returned; _Maedhros Feanorion._

Those were the eyes he remembered, when he last saw his brother, many ages ago. Before the oath failed them and before the fires claimed him. Now, once more, they stared at him as blood ran from his mouth and broken nose.  
And that was when Maglor felt a heaviness leave his body. The weight that had clung to his soul and held him down for so long vanished into thin air like it had been vaporised by the fire in his brother’s eyes.   
All was still and calm. _It was gone._   
Maglor let a gasp of disbelief and sudden joy escape his lips, followed by a small careful laugh. He loosened the tight grip he had on Maedhros, as cool tranquility washed over him and rendered him speechless.   
But now his brother, with unimaginable power, punched him in the face and flung him to the ground beside him. Maedhros quickly got on top of him and continued to beat his face. Over and over and over again the hits kept coming in a never-ending flow of pain.   
Maedhros bared his teeth and clenched his jaw tightly. He was breathing hard and fast as he kept on hitting his little brother. His knuckles turned red from the blood and small drops splashed on to his face. Maglor made no attempt to stop him, and only when he started to make gargling noises did Maedhros finally stop.   
His fist trembled as it hovered above Maglor’s face painfully clenched, dripping with his blood, ready to strike again. His face was a bloody mess. Still he made no attempt to resist his brother’s attack. He simply waited.  
In an exhausted breath Maedhros collapsed down beside him. They laid side by side in the muddy field and looked up into the sky as the rain kissed their faces and washed away their blood. The coolness of the water was soothing.   
Maedhros was breathing hard still and his chest moved up and down in a rapid rhythm. Maglor made some gargling noises and coughed a little as liquid got in his throat.

“Well… I deserved that…” — Maglor said in a raspy voice, quickly followed by some painful coughs.

“Yeah… yeah, you did…” — Maedhros said out of breath. He gently felt his own nose and hissed in pain.

“So did I…”

They laid there, completely still, for a small moment in silence. Their bodies well rested in the embracing soil. Legs spread out flat on the ground and arms resting heavily next to their bodies. The water ran over them and slowly washed the mud away.  
Then Maglor smiled a crimson smile.

“Thank you” — he said with such honest gratefulness, it confused Maedhros. He looked over at him and frowned perplexed.

“ _For what?_ ” — he asked. He had completely fucked up his face, for crying out loud. But Maglor continued to smile his blissful blood stained smile.

“For letting me see you like that again… The worst of you… It worked. _It’s gone_ ” — His voice was so calm and peaceful. He only spoke loud enough for Maedhros to be able to hear him. He could have fallen asleep right there on the spot, but he dared not drift away from such a perfect moment. He wanted to enjoy every second of it.  
Maedhros rolled his eyes and sighed in hopeless frustration. His brother had never been easy. None of his brothers had been, now that he thought of it, and neither had he.  
He turned his head to look back up at the dark sky.

“It wasn’t on purpose, so I don’t think you should thank me. When you broke my nose, something just clicked. _I could have killed you, damn it!_ I only just managed to control myself” — his tone was firm and somewhat scolding, but not angry. Not at all angry.

He glanced over at his little brother again, still smiling. His gaze traced the violent abuse he had committed. Shame pierced his heart, as he all too easily recognised the work of his hands.

“ _Please_ tell me I won’t have to do that again” — his pleading was sincere and revealed his discomfort and fear for that part of himself. He lifted his right hand and examined his sore knuckles.  
Maglor laughed merrily, but also compassionately.

“You won’t. It’s gone. It’s gone…” — He couldn’t stop saying it. _It’s gone. It’s gone. It’s gone._

They laid a little longer in silence.

“What now?” — Maglor then asked and frowned, pained by his sore face as he moved his brows.

“I don’t know, but we’ll figure it together”

Their eyes met at last. Both smiled.

“Yeah. I’d like that”

The rain continued to fall, the darkness lingered and the thunder roared out its merciless wrath.  
The two brothers had found each other in the blood soaked mud at last.   
It had not been pretty, it had not been gracious, and it had not been without pain; _but it had been true and it had been done for love._

—

A few days later they stood and glanced over the ocean as a white ship approached the harbour. Maglor’s heart skipped a beat as he saw its silver sails glisten in the bright autumn sun. A seagull followed close behind the ship, soaring effortlessly. It cried out and he thought it sounded like a greeting.   
The sailor arrived into the dock, giving them a look of surprise as he turned to greet them. Maglor’s face was swollen and heavily discoloured. Maedhros’s face too was not a pretty sight, with his swollen cheekbone and broken nose. But the two brother’s greeted the sailor as if everything was as it should be.   
Maedhros first got aboard the ship, turned around and gestured to Maglor to follow him. But he wasn’t looking at him. His gaze was directed inlands. A small wave of worry washed over Maedhros as he couldn’t read Maglor’s heavily bruised face.

“Brother?” — he carefully asked. Maglor turned to look at him — “Makalaure, come”

“It’s so strange” — Maglor said in a wondering tone of voice — “I’ve spend most of my life in these lands, and yet, they have never been my home”

His gaze wandered across the hills, mapping their curves. He glanced at the forests in the distance and the mountains beyond.

“And now, as I am about to leave, I am afraid. My courage is leaving me, brother. What if I can’t face them”

Maedhros heard his words, and understood his worry more than Maglor could even imagine. He smiled in comfort and held out his hand.

“You won’t be alone. Not this time”

The ship moved with the waves and made Maedhros sway to keep his balance. Maglor stood unmoved, firmly and securely on the steady dock.  
He glanced at the waves’ dancing and ever-changing nature, then back at the sturdy ancient mountains.  
His brother waited patiently. Maglor examined the extended hand, _Maedhros’ right_ , for a little moment, deep in thoughts. Then he turned to look one last time at the lands he had wandered for so long.

“Just take my hand to begin with”

And so he did.   
He came a little unsteadily aboard the white ship and as it moved out of the harbour he ran to its back to watch as the world he had known disappeared forever into the horizon.  
He stood there, even when he could no longer see middle earth, he kept looking towards it, not daring to look away. Maedhros joined him.

“Are you well?” — he asked out of genuine concern.

“I am terrified” — his voice trembled, not removing his fixed gaze — “Terrified beyond measure”

Maedhros noticed his slightly shaking hands resting on the railing.

“So was I when I first left the halls” — he said, trying to offer him some comfort. He smiled and leaned against the railing, looking to the east.

“I woke in the gardens of Este in a body I did not recognise. Mother was there”

Maglor stopped shaking and started to listen closely to his words, still not removing his eyes. Maedhros turned around and leaned against the railing with his back, continuing to speak.

“She cried as she held me in her arms, and I wept as well. I was so unworthy. But the people who loves you, wants you there, no matter what. They accept you and all you can do in return, is accept their love. It is not easy. Far from it. But you will slowly learn to receive it and appreciate it for what it is”

“And what is that?” — Maglor nervously asked, with a vulnerable voice.

“ _A gift_ ” — he said in an effortless sigh, crossing his arms to rest them — “A precious gift beyond words, beyond gold, beyond beauty, beyond anything you can imagine possible, and they choose to give it to _you_ ”

Maedhros gave him a brotherly smile, as Maglor now hesitantly turned his head and then his gaze to look at him. His face was still nervous, brows raised into a worried look and jaw tightly shut. Maedhros leaned towards him, like he was going to tell him a secret.

“And then you realise, that you have no say in who they decide to give it to”

Maglor did not respond to his words. He simply stared at him, still with a nervous fear in his eyes. Maedhros smiled one more time and left him to his thoughts.   
His words lingered a while in his mind. Echoing. He took one more glance at a land he could no longer see, and finally turned away.  
As he opened his eyes to face the west, he was greeted by the most beautiful sunset he had ever seen. Infinite shades of red and gold danced across the horizon, staining the clouds and waves in its mesmerising beauty. He sighed in awe and his eyes watered.  
He had to be brave now. The unknown laid before him, and he had to be brave. All he had ran away from, he now ran towards.   
May the valar be him merciful.

—

Night came and the two brothers admired the starry sky. The ship rocked gently upon the calm waves.

“There!” — Maedhros said and pointed to a bright star — “There’s Earendil”

There, among the constellations of colourful lamps, a star shone brighter and with more beauty than the rest. It shone with a unique quality that the brothers knew all to well. They had hunted that light for centuries. What suffering they had not endured, and what crimes they had not committed in order to claim their father’s work. But their hunt was over. The silmarils were lost to them.   
Maglor admired the beautiful star, when suddenly a terrible realisation hit him, and he jumped as panic started to rise in him.

“ _Earendil! Elwing!_ ” — He exclaimed in daunting horror.

Maedhros quickly tried to reassure his brother.

“It’s all right! I understand! Do not worry about that”

Maglor looked at his brother’s calm face in disbelief.

“But.. We will have to _face them at some point!_ ”

Maglor got to his feet and started pacing the deck as his panic became unbearable. He felt sick and dizzy. He couldn’t breathe!   
Maedhros followed his brother’s manic steps, and moved his hand in a reassuring gesture, trying to calm him.

“Brother, brother, it’s all right! I’ve met them”

His words were of no help. They only caused Maglor’s blood to freeze and his heart to skip a beat. He stared at Maedhros with his mouth open and eyes wide.

“ _You’ve met them?!_ ” — he spat the words out in horror. Maedhros now nervously tried to explain himself.

“Well, I couldn’t have done it without Elrond. He arranged it all. I showed up and we… talked… I guess you can call it that? There was talking involved, but mostly just awkward silence… and it looked like they were silently plotting my murder, but it went very well I think”

Maglor leaned against the railing, hyperventilating. He had turned as pale as a ghost.

“ _I need to get off this boat! I can’t!_ ” — He gasped breathlessly.

Maybe he could swim back to middle earth? They weren’t that far from it, right? He put a foot onto of the railing, but Maedhros grabbed him by the waist before he could jump overboard. They tumbled backwards on to the deck.   
The sailor glanced back at them when he heard all of the loud noises, and shook his head as he saw the ungracious example the two princes displayed.  
Maglor desperately struggled against his brother’s arms.

“ _Maglor, no!_ I promise you, everything will be fine! Have faith! Face them, and everything will be fine in time. _Just give it time_. You won’t be alone, I promise you”

He tried to reason with his conflicted brother, but Maglor dismissed his attempt at comforting him. He kicked and clawed with all of his strength, trying to reach for the railing again, but Maedhros kicked them further away from it, sliding across the deck.

“ _I don’t think I can!_ ” — he screamed, voice cracking.

“Yes, you can! Think of Vorimien!” — Maedhros said determined, tightly holding on to his brother. Maglor’s body relaxed a little as he heard his wife’s name.   
_Darling?_   
As she began to fade he felt the panic rise again.

“Talk to me about her!” — He desperately begged. Maedhros understood; he needed to think of something pleasant waiting for him.

“She wears your ring, the one you left behind. She wears it next to her own. They are old and time has set its mark, but she wears them regardless. Her hair is longer now. She still enjoys harp above any other instrument, and she still dances all night at every festival. She is still fierce and scary when angry. She has kept all of your music sheets and poetry safe, waiting for you to come home. She…”

Maedhros kept on talking about his sweet Vorimien for a long time. He listened intensely to everything he could tell about her. His body relaxed more and more as he heard of her. Maedhros talked on and on and the stars moved along as time passed by. He even repeated himself several times, but it didn’t matter, as long as he kept talking about her. When Maglor was completely calm Maedhros loosened his grip around his chest. He stopped talking and looked at him closely. His face was peaceful, but there was a hint of uncertainty still.  
His shoulder’s were low and he looked down at the deck, gaze distant.

“And… And I have a daughter?” — he asked hesitantly. Maedhros nodded.

“Could you… tell me about her?”

Maedhros smiled, and happily shared all he knew of his niece.   
She was born in the darkness, before the sun and moon had illuminated the world. Vorimien had raised her with the help of Nerdanel and his brother’s wives. Her hair was black like the night and she had inherited his love for poetry and his wife’s iron will. She had been safe from war and suffering, and despite her family, she was loved by many.  
Maedhros continued to tell Maglor about her and he felt something in him awaken. Something he had felt while taking care of Elrond and Elros; a desire to cherish and protect.  
He had a daughter.  
He was a father.  
He was coming home to her.

—

Morning came.  
The ship approached the white shores.  
It had been a long journey. Maedhros and Maglor had tried to groom themselves enough to at least look at little presentable. Their broken faces could not be saved, but Maglor groomed his beard for the very first time. He admired himself in the mirror and Maedhros rolled his eyes. He had strongly advised him to shave, but he had refused. Maglor wore new clothes for the very first time in a long while. He almost looked like his old self if it wasn’t for his starved physique.

The ship arrived in the harbour and laid to rest by the dock.   
Maglor came out onto the deck and saw the land of his birth in all of its ancient glory.  
He had to stop and take in its beauty as memories of old flooded his mind. The city had changed so much since he last was here. Well, he would rather not think of that time.   
They stepped off the ship and went on their way.  
The feeling of steady ground under his feet soothed Maglor. He really did not like ships. But this was more than any ordinary feel of soil. This was the land of his home. The earth welcomed each of his steps and greeted him, rejoicing in his return.

They were going to the house of their family.   
As they approached the gates, Maglor felt the panic from earlier come back. Maedhros sensed it and waited patiently for him a few steps ahead.

“You’re here now. You might as well continue” — He said in encouragement. Maglor swallowed nervously and gathered his courage.  
The gates opened for them and they entered. Nostalgia overwhelmed Maglor’s senses as he stood in the gardens of his youth. There, just in front of him was the house he had been a child in. The front door opened and a woman, crowned in red, walked out. She stopped once she saw the two brothers coming towards the house. She was just as he remembered her.

“Mother…” — Maglor gasped.   
She was frozen to the spot and so was he. Maedhros lifted his hand to wave and greet her. She slowly started to walk towards them, with every step, increasing her pace. Maglor felt his heart pounding in his chest as she came ever closer. Now he could see her face clearly; strong features dotted with freckles. But as he could see her face, she saw his and her eyes widened in horror. She shot a glare at Maedhros but said nothing. She would deal with him later. Maedhros smiled nervously.  
Now she stood right in front of her second born and looked at him in wonder, both equally nervous. Then she carefully cupped his face in her hands.

“ _Makalaure_ ” — She so gently said his name, and in it, he heard all of the long years she has waited for his return. He could hear the grief and joy of a mother, _his mother_. And when he heard her voice he could do nothing but tremble. He pressed his face into her touch and closed his eyes tightly as tears started to fall.

“ _Yes, mother!_ I am home!” — his voice was so remorseful. He was so happy and so sorry all at the same time. He wished he could take away all of those eternal years of sorrow she had had to endure. She brushed away the hair from his face, and embraced him at last. He put his arms around her, and pressed his face into her shoulder.

“Welcome home, my son”

—

They had prepared a room for him.  
Nothing in it belonged to him. All of his belongings must still be with his wife, if she had not got rid of them. Through the window he could look into the gardens surrounding the house.   
_He was home._  
How strange. He was already exhausted. His body was still weak. He glanced over at the bed. He didn’t know if he would find any rest in it, now that his body had been used to the ground for so long. Well, he had forever to get used to a bed now.  
There was a mirror in his room as well. Even on the ship he had found it strange to look at himself. He was so clean and proper. When he looked into it, he was almost certain it was someone else staring back at him.  
Someone knocked on the door.

“Come in”

His mother came into the room holding a box in her hands. She invited him to sit with her. The box contained some jewellery that had belonged to him before the oath. She now returned it to him. He lifted up an earring and admired the jewels’ blue nuances. It was old and that was very obvious. How time had passed by. He had worn blue jewellery at his wedding…  
 _Darling?_  
He lowered his head and sighed.

“What is it, my love?” — his mother asked, putting a comforting hand on his lowered shoulder.

“Vorimien..” — He said sadly, staring at the blue jewellery in the box. Nerdanel drew in a sharp breath of sudden realisation.

“Oh, dear, yes! She doesn’t even know that you have returned yet. Shall I call for her?”

She moved to leave her seat, and call for a servant. Fear tightened around Maglor’s throat and he reached for her hand to stop her.

“No! No!” — he exclaimed a little too eagerly, and she looked down at him confused. He swallowed a nervous lump in his throat.

“I-I’m not ready, and I don’t wish for her to see me.. like this”

He pointed to his bruised face. His mother gave him a sharp look and sat back down next to him.

“Whatever happened between you and Maitimo? Why is his nose broken and you a purplish lump of meat?” — she asked, eyes narrow and suspicious.

“We… had a talk” — he said a little embarrassed, looking down at his feet.

“A talk?” — Nerdanel arched an eyebrow. He could feel those piercing eyes he had grown up with; a mother’s all knowing gaze.

“We sorted out some things between us. Believe me, if we hadn’t… “talked”, I would not have come back”

“Aha” — his mother said suspiciously, not quite satisfied with his answer, but didn’t push him to tell more. She saw how tired he was, kissed his brow and told him to rest. She got up but before she went out she stopped in the doorway, not looking back at him.

“I am glad you had your “talk”, my son, but next time, I would appreciate it if this family did not use violence as a means to sort out a disagreement”

Maglor chuckled at her request. He had missed her dearly.

“Yes, mother, so would I”

“Good” — He couldn’t see it, but she was smiling.   
She closed the door and left him to rest.   
He found none in the soft bed, so he laid himself to sleep next to it on the floor.   
He wasn’t cold anymore nor hungry. There was peace and quiet around him and he was safe.   
And for the first time in ages, he was completely and utterly comfortable.  
How strange.

—

His face healed more every day.  
He still looked like a mess, but a nicer mess.   
One day, as they were having breakfast in the garden there was someone at the door. A servant went to greet their guest, and they all wondered who it could be this early. They heard voices in the hallway; a man had come. His voice was familiar, but Maglor could not pinpoint it yet, since it was still very distant.   
The noise of cutlery hitting a plate startled him and he looked at Maedhros who had dropped both his fork and knife. His eyes were wide and jaw clenched. Maglor frowned in confusion over his brother’s sudden and odd reaction.  
The man came into the garden now and into view. Maglor could hardly believe it, but the golden threads in the dark braids left no room for doubt. He looked back at his brother, who had recognised the voice before he had. His face was full of wonder and disbelief.  
 _Fingon had left the halls._  
It must have happened while they were in middle earth. Nerdanel lifted a hand to her lips in surprise.

“Findekano!” — she exclaimed.

Fingon turned and greeted her in a gracious bow. He smiled happily and his eyes shone brightly.

“Dearest aunt! I hope I am not intruding?” — his voice was thick with flatter and charm. _Yup, that certainly was their cousin,_ Maglor thought, and rolled his eyes.  
Fingon’s gaze kept returning to Maedhros, and his eyes said it all. Maedhros’ heart was pounding so fast he thought it would jump out of him. He had to keep reminding himself to breath.   
Fingon then noticed Maglor, and now he was the one amazed.

“Cousin! Your face!” — He said in surprise. Maglor pointed to Maedhros.

“I broke his nose…” — He explained, still hardly believing that Fingon had actually returned. Fingon looked to Maedhros for further explanation, and a shiver shot through his body when their eyes met. He had a hard time gathering his thoughts. He was _certain_ this was a dream. He had dreamt this many times before.

“He broke my nose, so I broke his face…” — Maedhros said in a distant voice, as if he hardly even noticed what he was saying. Fingon blinked confused at their odd explanations and then looked to Nerdanel who simply sighed and shook her head hopelessly.

“… well, it’s good to see you!” — Fingon said at last, giving a nervous smile — “Welcome home” — he spread out his arms in a greeting gesture.

“And to you as well” — Maglor replied.

An awkward silence spread between them. Fingon and Maedhros kept looking at each other, and Maedhros dared to think that this perhaps wasn’t a dream after all.   
At last Nerdanel had had enough and slammed her hands flat on the table, pressing herself up from her seat. The noise startled them all but she cared little for her ungracious exit.

“Makalaure, come with me” — she commanded, and he obeyed embarrassedly. He wished she could have been a little more subtle, but that had never been her strong side.   
They left Maedhros and Fingon alone in the garden. No doubt, they appreciated the privacy. Fingon followed them with his eyes, and when he couldn’t see them anymore he turned his gaze to Maedhros. He was still sitting frozen in his chair, eyes fixed on him.  
Fingon walked over and took Maglor’s chair, moving it right up next to Maedhros. He sat down and took Maedhros hands in his.   
_He could feel his touch! This wasn’t a dream._

“You’re _really_ here!” — He gasped.

“I am” — Fingon said, brushing the back of Maedhros’ hand with his thumb — “I am sorry it took me so long”

“No, don’t be” — Maedhros took both his hands in his — “I would have waited forever, if that was how long it would take for you to return”

Fingon chuckled at his words and lowered his head. Maedhros could see that he didn’t believe him. But in time, he would learn to accept his _gift_.  
Fingon looked back up at him. Maedhros could see the lingering guilt and sadness in his eyes. He recognised it, for he had been the same when he first left the halls. They smiled at each other, then Fingon tried to remove the sad tension between them.

“So!” — he said with a teasing smirk — “Your _little_ brother has a beard now?”

“Yes, I know! It looks awful!”

“I kinda like it”

“… Really?”

—

“What about you?” — His mother had asked after they left the garden — “Shall I not call for your wife?”

“No… Mother, not yet. At least not as long as my face is like this”

He was growing a little annoyed with her continuous stubbornness regarding his wife.

“As you wish, but do think of her. She has waited for you for so long, and here you finally are! And she doesn’t even know”

“Mother, please! Just..! Just not yet, alright?” — his words came out a little harsher than he had intended them to.  
She did not say anything with words, but her eyes had more than enough to tell him of what she thought.

—

It has now been a little over a week since his return.  
His face had almost returned to normal, but still, a little discolouring lingered on his features. He sat in the gardens and thought about his time here.

He had still not fully accepted that he indeed was home. Every morning he woke up and was confused to be looking at a ceiling instead of the sky.  
He had gained some weight but still, his appetite had not fully returned. Most days he could hardly eat any more than just one meal. Sometimes, the dinner could leave him full for the next day as well.

Amrod, Amras and Caranthir had come to visit a few days ago. He hardly recognised them. They had changed just as much as Maedhros.   
Maglor found himself staring longer and longer into the mirror every day. He was scared. Would he loose himself as well? Did he want that? To change so much, that he would be unrecognisable? A part of him wanted that very much, but he was scared to let go of who he was. What would replace him? Would the past be gone? All of his mistakes, simply erased? Would it all have been for nothing? All of that suffering and pain… would they just fade away? Could he allow that to happen?  
He had too many questions, and none he was able to answer.

He spend most of his time alone, wandering in the gardens. _Force of habit_ , he thought, smiling to himself at the irony. He finally had a home, and yet his body was not content to stay inside. He had to feel the grass beneath his feet and smell the trees. His mother would often watch him from a distance, waving back at him whenever he looked in her direction. She worried about him, he knew that.   
Every day she asked if she should call for Vorimien, and every day he asked for more time. He knew that soon he would no longer be able to hide behind his bruised face. Soon that excuse would be invalid. He would have to meet her, and he was terrified.  
And his daughter.   
He would have to meet her too. But they were strangers to each other. She was a grown woman now and he an old man. She was born before the time of the sun and moon, and he had wandered in lands far away from her. What did he possibly have to offer her?

He sighed and rested his head in his hands.

“ _Useless fool…_ ” — he mumbled to himself.   
He heard footsteps approaching him. His mother was coming to him, to ask about his wife once again. He did not look at her, and with no intention of hiding his irritation, he said to her in an almost cruel tone.

“Mother, please, I know what you will ask, and my answer is the same; _not yet!_ ”

“She told me that”

 _That voice!_   
It did not belong to his mother. He froze to the spot, head in hands, not daring to move. She came closer to him with careful, hesitant steps. She knelt before him.   
_He could not face her._   
She put her hands on his, requesting him to remove them, and look at her. Slowly, he lowered them, but his head remained low, his gaze fixed on his lap. He saw her hands on his. She was wearing their rings on her finger.

“ _Darling?_ ”

He gasped a hard breath when he heard her say _that word_. He hadn’t noticed it, but he had held his breath. She cupped his face in her sweet, soft hands and raised his head to face her. Their eyes met, both had tears in them.

“My sweet, sweet husband” — Her voice was affected by her emotions. She tried to hold back her tears as she caressed his bruised face. Her eyes wandered across his features, mapping all details she came across. He searched her face as well. Not even in his dreams had he seen her, and now at last, he could once more lay his eyes upon her beautiful face. Only her sad gaze revealed the ages that had passed, since they last were together.  
He reached a hand up to cup her cheek. She gasped in relief at his touch and pressed into his hand. His thumb gently brushed over her cheek in a loving motion.

“I am so sorry” — He said at last, his voice pierced with remorse — “I am _so_ sorry!”

“Oh, my love!” — she said in a breath and drew him into a firm embrace. He gasped at her graciousness, and loving gesture. Their sudden closeness, and the feel of her body pressed against his own stunned him for a moment. She started to tremble and he heard her sob against his ear, her tears wetting his skin.   
He awkwardly put his arms around her and returned the heartfelt embrace. They wept in each others arms, as they had the night before they parted.   
But this was no painful goodbye, no desperate attempt of stopping what was to come.

This was a greeting;   
_Welcome home, you long lost wanderer._  
 _May you wander no more._


End file.
